by Liza James
Truth is, Bess has been like a mother to me. When mine left to travel the world and my dad fell in and out of rehab. She's the one who has taken care of me when I needed someone outside of Carter and Liv.
"I did, and I can make more if it'll help here at the shop."
"Of course, it would help. We could have an artist spotlight kind of night, maybe host a wine and beer tasting event in the evening." I can see her mind processing the possibilities, and the light in her eyes are sparkling with new life like I haven't seen in quite a while.
"Other artists too. I could see if anyone from campus wants to showcase anything. Maybe draw in a larger crowd of people who don't know we exist over here on this side of town." I lift my bag and rest it on the counter, settling my things so I can start working at repotting several of the Monstera clippings into smaller pots.
Bess sets down my planter and hurries past me. "I'm going to get started on what this would cost and how feasible it is," she yells over her shoulder, and just as I smile and nod in acknowledgement, my eyes catch the movement of someone entering the little shop.
"Baby Bloom," Carter's low and rough voice blows through the space. Goosebumps spill out over my shoulders, my heart hammers instinctively, even though I just saw him a few hours ago. He says hello to Bess when she passes him and offers a little wave before turning toward me.
I groan out, "What now, Carter? You couldn't have texted me for whatever you need?" I want to be near him, but I also want space to clear my head. To distance myself.
"Study session," he replies easily. Stepping over countless plants littering the floor, he moves closer to me and slides his hands into his jean pockets. He leans against the work counter, and watches me intently while I begin opening a new bag of potting soil.
I glance up at him, feeling the intensity of his gaze throughout my entire body. I turn back toward my plants and begin lining up several small pots. I work to fill each one with soil and organize my clippings into where they are going to be strategically placed.
Carter clears his throat and I look back to him, an expectant expression on his face. "What?" I ask, irritation lining my tone and filling my chest.
"I need you to help me with Color Theory. Coach made me take the class in order to raise my GPA, so help me study," he says, but I know him and I know he has ulterior motives. He inches closer to me, his hips brushing against mine as he enters my personal space. He dips his head down and moves his lips closer to my ear, "Please?" His voice is rough and low. It moves across my skin in drastically enticing waves.
God, he didn't even say anything dirty and yet my skin is on fire as if he'd just asked me to take off my clothes for him.
I clear my own throat, uncomfortable at the nearness of him in ways I wish I could easily ignore. "Fine, okay. I already went over the notes from class today." I start laying each clipping into the bed of soil, burrowing them beneath a thin layer for protection.
"Mmhmm,” he hums in my ear.
"The psychology of color, right? In media and marketing, companies use various combinations of shapes and colors in order to illicit the perception they're trying to sell." I look over to him and realize his eyes are trained on my hands, watching me work in the soil and focusing on the subtle movements. I don't understand what could be so appealing about this, but I continue speaking anyways, assuming he's listening to what I'm saying.
But I'm wrong, because his sounds are obscure grunts and absent uh huh's, instead of anything remotely invested.
I snap my fingers in front of his face, dirt already working its way under my fingernails and over the creases of my knuckles. "Are you even paying attention, Carter?" I ask, my voice pitching higher as I speak and my eyes narrowing at his obvious ignorance.
His eyes snap to me as he straightens his spine. His hand springs forward and his fingers wrap tightly around my wrist as he yanks me toward him. "I didn't realize how incredibly erotic it would be watching you work in the dirt." His eyes fall to my hands again and his grip tightens incrementally.
"What?" I ask, my tone a heated mix of anticipation and desire.
"These hands. I can't stop thinking about them, and wishing they were working over other places right now."
I drop my eyes, and tilt my head down as my mind spirals into a mess of thoughts and filthy memories.
How is it that we went from being best friends, completely platonic, to this?
I can't get these moments out of my mind, I can't get his indecent words out of my ears. And it's clearly the same way for him.
We're drawn to each other uncontrollably now, and I'm worried the only way we'll be able to stay apart is by physically removing ourselves from each other's lives.
"Bloom!" Liv's bright and cheery voice blasts through the space behind me and I jump back in complete surprise.
Carter steps back as well, his hands immediately falling to his pockets after releasing his hold on me. I whip my head around to find not only Liv, but Benj following behind her as well.
"Seriously you guys? I'm at work. Why are all of you here?" I exclaim, a chaotic mix of confusion, frustration, and suppressed desire battle for control inside of me. I wish I could make sense of all of this, but feeling everyone around me, practically absorbing their energies is outrageously overwhelming.
Benj leaves Liv's side and walks toward me, stepping behind my work counter and wrapping his arms around my waist as he tugs me against him.
Shit. I haven't had the chance to talk to Benj about only being friends. After last night, after we kissed, I realized what I feel for him will never even compare to how I feel for Carter.
So, I smile sweetly and let him hold me while I continue working on the small plants.
Avoidance. That's my tactic now.
Everything is silent for a few moments, awkward tension builds in the air between us. I chance a glance toward Carter who now has his arms crossed tightly over his chest while his eyes are glued to Benj. Liv slowly walks over to us and leans forward on the other side, resting her elbows against the surface and dropping her chin into her hands.
"I'm sorry, Bloom," she says quietly. "I should have never told Benj about you." She looks up to him as well and I feel him nod in acknowledgment behind me.
I lift my eyes to hers as I absently chew on the inside of my cheek. "You're right, you shouldn't have shared that private piece of me with anyone." I sigh and step back, out of Benj's hold in order to put some space between myself and the rest of them.
They all watch me intently and for some reason, a strange pressure builds in my torso and I want to pull away even more. "Especially Benj, who of course told Carter." I narrow my eyes at Benj this time, hoping he understands how I am also frustrated with him.
"I know, I fucked up. I should have never said anything to Carter." He slides his hands into his pockets, and I can tell he's being genuine in the gentle tone of his voice.
I nod as I turn around and walk away, intending on getting some space away from the three of them. I want fresh air, I want to breathe for a moment apart from the people who each hold a different piece of my heart.
I keep walking, stepping forward until I round the corner leading outside of the greenhouse. I vaguely hear the sound of Liv talking to Carter, her voice is raised slightly and it sounds like she may be asking him something.
I wrap my arms around my chest and shut my eyes, forcing myself to take a deep breath in and then out. Feeling the touch of my own fingers against the outside of my arms as my chest rises and falls.
In. Out.
In. Out.
Breathe.
Before I know what is happening, I feel thick and heavy arms wrap around my shoulders from behind. I'm gently pulled backwards and against a wide, strong chest and infectious warmth. I already know who it is without looking, because it feels different than it does when it's Carter.
This is sweet. This is kind and loving and gentle and innocent.
But it isn't what my soul craves, it isn't what
my heart wants and it's not the same hunger my mind needs from someone else.
"What can I do to help?" Benj's low voice fills my ears while his presence surrounds me.
What do I need right now? I don't even know exactly. But I know it's nothing from him.
"Nothing," I say quietly. I force another deep breath in my lungs, absorbing as much clean air and refreshing energy I possibly can. "I would actually like to be alone for a few minutes." I feel bad when I say the words, because I know Benj only wants to help. But I need this time alone and there's nothing he can offer me in this moment.
Benj stiffens for an instant, but steps back silently and turns around. I hear his retreating footsteps, but I don't watch him as he leaves. I can already feel the tension growing between us and while I know what needs to be done, I'm feeling far too much from everyone else around me. I can't deal with all of this right now.
Instead, my mind drifts to other places, to other problems in my life that I should be prioritizing over my ridiculous romantic relationships. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone, illuminating the screen so I can see if I have any missed messages from my father. I've tried to reach him several times over the last week, but he keeps ignoring my calls.
I absently wonder if he's upset with me, because of how our last interaction went. But what happened was so incredibly normal. Those instances were everyday occurrences when I was young.
Hell, sometimes they were worse.
I decide to try and call him again, so I quickly scroll through my contact list and tap on his name—Dad.
The phone rings several times, over and over and over again in continuous reminders that he wants nothing to do with me.
It hurts.
His voicemail picks up, the robotic voice chiming in my ear as a new wash of pain bursts in my chest.
I don't know why, but the fact he hasn't even recorded his own voicemail, that it's not his words I hear when he rejects my call is like another stab of betrayal against the relationship we have.
He won't give me the time to hold a simple conversation. And now, he takes away my ability to hear him whenever he refuses me?
Anger and resentment rip through my stomach and spiral across my limbs in a toxic ocean of agony. New tears spring to my eyes and threaten to spill over my cheeks as I look down and grind my teeth along my jaw.
I tap the call button again, hoping he looks at his phone and sees every missed call he's gotten from me. A dark and distorted part of me hopes it hurts him as badly as I'm hurting now.
"Baby, baby, baby," his voice suddenly breaks through on the line and I gasp uncontrollably at the fact he's finally answered. He sounds different, his tone is vibrant and his words are clear and I can't help the tiny spark of hope flashing through the back of my mind in this moment.
Is he sober?
"Dad?" I say, my voice breaking unexpectedly over the guarded word.
"Yeah, baby. It's me, I'm here," he replies, a low laugh infiltrating his voice in ways I haven't heard in a very long time.
I step away from the greenhouse, glancing back over my shoulder before continuing further away. I want privacy in this, and I don't want anyone to see me fall apart if I suddenly realize he's drunk.
“What—” I start, stumbling over my words while an anxious lump settles in my throat. “Where—Where are you?” I lay one hand over my other ear, so I can hear everything he says incredibly clearly. I want to know what he sounds like, how his words flow together as he speaks.
“I’m back at the center, Bloom,” he says, his tone casual and crisp. But there’s a desperation subtly lining his voice as well. Threads of disappointment mixed within. “I, ah, came back a couple of days ago. I haven’t answered your calls or gotten back in touch with you, baby, because I wanted to detox for a few days before I did. I wouldn’t have answered this one, but you’ve called so much. I knew I had too.”
I can’t help it, my heart soars inside of me. The biggest bolt of hope rocks through my frame. I’m trying to keep it under control, trying to remain realistic in this entire situation. Objective. Because this isn’t the first time he’s gone back to rehab. I know that.
But this feels differently for some reason. Maybe it’s because I’m still riding the emotional rollercoaster of seeing him last week. I don’t know, but my face is splitting into a wide grin and tears are silently falling down my cheeks at the sound of his healthy voice.
“Dad. I’m so glad. I’m so proud of you.” I whisper, trying to rein in my uncontrollable excitement. I laugh and begin pacing back and forth behind the greenhouse, listening to my dad continue chatting about getting comfortable at the facility.
“They said that I’ll be able to have visitors this upcoming week,” his voice turns hesitant and he speaks a bit quieter. “I know our last run in was…difficult. But I was hoping that you’d—”
“Of course. Absolutely, I’ll be there. Just let me know what day I can come and I’ll drive out.” I can’t help but interrupt him. My energy is leaping, bouncing around me in chaotic bursts of emotion. For the first time in weeks, I feel happy.
Genuinely, completely, happy.
He laughs, and the sound spreads through my chest and envelopes me in warmth.
My dad. Sober. Laughing. A new beginning.
I have a good feeling about this.
“Okay, baby. I need to go, I’m about to head into one of my sessions. I’ll text you with the visitor information this week,” he replies lightly. I drop the hand away from my ear and begin turning back toward the greenhouse, keeping my eyes on the ground as I move when he suddenly speaks again. “I love you, Bloom. I hope you know that.”
I love you.
Three words that carry far more weight than we often realize. Words that when taken away, do far more damage than we initially expect.
Taken for granted, assumed connection in which we can so easily destroy before even realizing it.
Hearing those words from him fill my heart and body in ways I could never have anticipated feeling again, not after the last time we saw each other.
“I love you more, Dad.” I reply, absorbing the weight of relief and pride billowing between us. I quickly hang up the phone after a quick goodbye and lift my head as I step toward the back of the greenhouse.
Startling, I halt my steps in an instant when I see Carter, leaning against the open doorframe with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He’s watching me, with a kind smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “Dad?” he asks as I begin walking toward him again.
“Dad.” I repeat, letting my own smile pull even wider. “He’s back at rehab. After I saw him, he had a change of heart and went back, Carter.” I can hardly even believe the words I’m speaking. But they’re real. God, they’re real.
I hurry forward and suddenly throw my arms around Carter’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug while I rest my head against his chest. He picks me up and steps away from the house, laughing quietly in my ear before he sets me down again. “I’m happy for you, Baby Bloom. For you and your dad.”
“You get it, you know? You’re the only one who does.” My voice is reserved, but only because I’m feeling so much in this moment, experiencing such a kaleidoscope of emotions. I pull away from him, but my chest and figure remain tucked tightly against him.
He drops his hands to my cheeks, tilting my head up so I can look him in the eyes. “You're the brightest light in your dad’s life. Even when he's drunk, when he's lost, in those darkest moments—you're still the end game for him. He'll come around, this will work out."
I smile, lifting and weaving my fingers through his. I tilt my head to the side and brush my cheek against his palm, resting in the feeling of his security and strength. "Thank you," I whisper, and without even realizing it, I'm leaning closer to him. My hands fall to his chest and slide up his neck. I want to kiss him, I want to connect in more ways than just this.
Closer. I just want to be closer.
He feels li
ke my other half, the other piece to my heart and soul.
He leans down as well, and I can't even tell who's about to lead the kiss, but the clear and quick sound of heavy steps knocks me out of the moment immediately. I rip away from Carter just as Benj walks around the corner, halting midstep as soon as he sees us. As if he's walking in on something, interrupting a particular moment.
Carter raises his hands and runs them through his hair before glancing back to me and then to Benj. "All right, well, I guess study session is cancelled tonight with these guys crashing." He motions toward Benj and Liv as she pops into the interaction as well.
"Yeah, looks like study sesh is over," Benj says, his voice low and his tone seemingly demanding.
Carter's shoulder tense, and he immediately meets his friend’s gaze with an intensity I've never seen before. It's like they’re communicating without words, some kind of standoff while Liv and I helplessly watch.
Liv is the first to speak, and she steps forward with a laugh as she walks up to Carter and slaps a hand over his chest. "Okay, big boy. Come back to the house with Benj and I. We're putting on burgers. Bloom can meet us when she's off." She turns toward me and raises her brows in question. "Right, Bloom? You'll come to the guys place?"
I nod and a shiver races over my shoulders at the awkward exchange happening. "Of course. I'll be off in a few hours."
"Sweet," she replies as she reaches for Carter's hand and pulls him behind her. Benj smiles my way in departure before turning around and following them out.
I'd say I'm distracted by the dynamic of our group currently, but I'm not. Not today, not now that I've spoken to my father and have that light to hold on to.
Him getting sober, him gaining control over his life again?
That changes everything.
Thankfully, Bloom has been helping me study every evening this week. She's come to the Cardinal house or I've gone to Theta Si—strangely surrounded by other people every single time—while we go over each week’s topic so far in class. She also caught me up on what I missed before I joined a couple of weeks ago.